vladimir

[Valiant]

Vladimir Dominic Morelli !

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reaching out to only demolish things[/center]

name: Vladimir Dominic Morelli.
nicknames: There aren't any, unless he clarifies otherwise.
date of birth: It's long since been forgotten, but he considers his resurrection to be a day of birth. December 31st, sometime during the earlier stages of the seventeenth century.
date of change: N/A
hometown: Somewhere in northern Italy is all he remembers.
species: A rather corrupted shapeshifter.
powers / abilities: Apart from the obvious talents of a shifter, he's capable of temporarily dematerializing into the darkness of shadows and using this power as a sort of stealthy illusion. He isn't capable of teleporting great distances, but it comes in handy whenever he needs a crafty advantage during battle. This is something that has taken him centuries to master, and even today, he finds himself feeling physically and mentally drained after preforming such a task too often in one day. This power may also be useless within the daylight hours, for if there are little shadows around to conceal the fabrics of his being, dematerialization becomes impossible for the man to preform.

height: A towering 6'6".
weight: 214lbs, though he certainly doesn't look it.
hair color: Onyx black.
eye color: A haunting and forever unnerving crystalline shade of azure.
overall appearance: Impressive height, a lean but fit muscle mass, thick and unruly long dark hair, a piercing iris hue, a prominent bone structure (especially with his facial features), far too many scars to count, many tattoos and piercings, and leather or black articles of clothing. He has a very dark and mysterious sense about who he is. Always, even if unintentional.
play by: Andy Six.

likes: Body paint, dark colored clothing, body piercings, loneliness, being detached, intimacy, morbid killing styles, ice picks, letting loose, Synthia and Violetta.
dislikes: Emotion, selflessness, hypocrites, his many fears, his animal form at times, vulnerability.
strengths: Fighting skills, surprisingly isn't interested enough with most people to even think about being critical.
weaknesses: Non-remorseful, possesses no morals.
habits/quirks: Purposely keeps his mind frame with his animalistic instincts, plays with his lip ring when in deep thought.
fears: Pyrophobia, feeling anything emotionally.
secrets: His violet habits have chased almost everyone in his life away, if not into the ground.
personality: When writing these things out, many usually start with the outer exterior and slowly move their way inward towards the proof that they may not be as terrible as they frequently come off as. How they have a soft and caring side to who they are, how they are only so unreasonably horrid for particular reasons in general, etc. I, however, must unfortunately inform you that this isn't the case with Vladimir Morelli.
He is a psychopath, friends; the mere epitome of the definition itself. He possesses no conscience, no feelings of guild or remorse no matter what he does, and he's successfully rid himself of the limiting concern he may have once held for strangers, friends, and even family members over the years. Shame doesn't play a part in his decisions or actions, no matter how immoral it all seems to the rest of the world. He is the carrier of a soul that no one would enjoy associating with, and because of this, Vlad can easily be defined as a monstrous individual.

It is unknown to everyone - even the man himself - when such a lifestyle manifested itself over the bane of his existence, but his darkened mind remains forever grateful to the altered personality. His ability to feel the pain full throb a grieving heart or a headache of worry was forcefully ripped from his grasp ages ago. As a result, the ones responsible for bringing him back to life int he first place have classified his condition as 'emotionally numb fever'; when someone is to carve out their main organs (the brain, heart, etc) and hold them frantically in a bucket full of ice water, metaphorically of course.

His condition has yet to change or improve even slightly.
But alas, he may not be completely impossible to fix.

mother: Valeria, he has yet to remember her last name.
father: Dmitri, the same situation for his father.
siblings: He has no blood ties anymore, that he knows of.
other family: Synthia and Violetta Morelli.
others worth mentioning: He has loved once before, but he is no longer condemned to the woman. Her name was Ivonne, and her blood remains on his hands.
history: "I have a very difficult time remembering anything before the day I met Synthia and Violetta, but to be quite honest with you, I've done my absolute best keeping it that way. They tell me that I was born and raised in northern Italy, by a family of hunters that had originally played the part of harmless farmers. They tell me that I had two siblings; a younger sister and even younger brother, but those factors are personally irrelevant to me."

"Much like those overly proud pack-brats, my family belonged to a group of shifters that dedicated their lives of considerable forever (if they chose to fight off the aging process by shifting) to slaughtering the race of their mortal enemies; the vampires. My siblings and I were raised to protect, defend, and show no mercy to these creatures we stalked obsessively by nightfall. There was no other way of life in the eyes of my parents and other peers. Or so, I am told. No matter how peaceful their lifestyles may have proven to be, the thick and narcissistic fog keeping the logical thoughts from reaching their minds was enough to convince them that they were doing the world a favor. And naturally, it blinded them from their own sinful antics."

"Letta tells me that I thought differently about these ways, that I had not been capable of comprehending the specific regulations my 'people' followed religiously. She tells me that whenever the opportunity sprang forward, I would warn the immortal victims of our intentions and successfully drive them away before our hatred blasted them into oblivion. She tells me that I was then - and still am, surprisingly - a good man. But of course, I'm certain that my days of good deeds have been permanently lost within the seventeenth century."

"I do not recall all of the time period, but I do remember the highlights to this chapter of my life. There was a woman around frequently, and her name was Ivonne. Synthia tells me I was beyond taken with her; that everything I did or thought about was somehow incorporated with this individual. I am told I was in love with her, but in similar tragic novels, this care belonging in my heart was not returned in the slightest."
"Apparently, I eventually grew tired of Ivonne pull me along whenever she felt the need to pull on my strings. I had decided to move along without her at my side, and instead, look for someone who could give the feelings that I craved to have returned to me. Soon after vocalizing my choice to leave all memories of her behind, my whole world crumbled away chaotically. Little did I know, Ivonne's name tied nearly too perfectly with the feared name of necromancers. I was captured and used as her testing rat for whatever curiosities swirled inside of her sickened mind. Synthia also tells me that I died more than once during her practices, but with every time it looked as if I would be freed from her clutch by death itself, she would just reverse her mistakes by bringing me back."

"Imagine no escape, and you'll have the last moments of my imprisoned life; a caged atrocity raging to be set free. This is where my psychopathic outlooks began, I believe. Considering that every time I was revived, the darkness of the magic Ivonne worshiped refused to release its suffocating hold on me. I know you're probably wondering how a necromancer could even touch me once, given they're pretty much powerless against others like myself. Letta tells me I allowed her to do this, in that horribly fucked up 'I love you enough to harm me' sort of ways. She says that once I died the first time, things began getting easier for Ivonne to break past..."

"I think this woman was hoping to find a loophole to the one species her kind had no control over. Her interest was not of care, but instead of fascination. I was merely her little puppet."



"I may have been years that I allowed Ivonne to work past the wall between her magic tricks and my bloodline. It had to be, because of how somethings still have a way of haunting my every step forward. Synthia and Violetta explained how they discovered my situation and more or less created a plan of action to set me free; to heal the toxic condition I let Ivonne place upon me. I was rescued on an evening in December, if I remember correctly. And because of how dangerous the two knew things could be for them, they basically took off with me in their care. From then on, they began ridding the toxic waste Ivonne had coated over my mind slowly, attempting to unravel my soul."

"I was saved, it is true. I do not ever take that for granted. But sometimes, it's impossible to piece back together if some of their parts have gone missing. And you see, that is my issue here. I have lost a very large proportion of myself and after being told everything I just repeated to you..."

"All I can truly say, is that I know I never want to be fully found."

role play sample: Exhaustion; the ten letter word had not a single upside to its meaning. It took away enthusiasm, awareness, toleration – but most importantly, the well deserved hours of sleep that the human body required to function. Within its grasp, somebody's literal life could reveal itself to be bothersome even and quite often, the mind begins to run through a routine of instincts rather than a person's common desires. Although she anticipated the immensely drained energy effects prior to the many double shifts she'd taken on this week, Zephyr's level of surprise was much higher in result.
The hour was nearly ten-thirty in the very late evening, yet the seemingly recognized movement of plates & other dining utensils remained a sign of Harbour Place Grille still being open to anyone hoping to satisfy their hunger needs. It wasn't inside of the actual restaurant itself that she chose to be seated in, however. On the patio just outside of the main dining sections and what have you, a diminutive nineteen year old enjoyed the presence of the Niagra River flowing endlessly beside the outside area.

There really wasn't anything terribly significant about the current setting; vacant tables all around, the occasional swish of air when cars would drive by the restaurant, the distinctive trickle of river water fighting away the silence, a simple glass of iced tea already drank passed the half way mark, a sketchbook litered with many drawings in the female tattooist's personal style, etc. Though, that was to be expected on the final ends to a Sunday night, wasn't it? The nightlife crowd had previously unleashed their surges of chaos & recklessness earlier on in the weekend, you see. But now that the party atmosphere wasn't feeling neglected, things could finally start to wind down accordingly throughout the rest of the week.

And more importantly, Zephyr would be able to take a breath and actually admire the air inside of her lungs, without feeling pressured to dart off and work with something else. The girl was all for busy schedules, this is true, but even she wasn't capable of doing everything at one particular time. Her love for art in truly any form needed to be practiced for the woman's actual sanity, but in order to make time for this peaceful hobby, it required the rest of her responsibilities to be in complete check...
Were the bills always paid? Well, not always. But generally, yes.
Was there food on the table? Perhaps not home cooked food, but you could blame her lack of cooking skills for that.
Were the twins well and happy? They were three. And everybody knows that the happiness of a toddler was determined on their mood of the day. For the most part, nevertheless, it could also be checked off as a yes.

Speaking of responsibility...it was hard for Zephyr to determine when exactly she began endure it willingly on her own. Obviously, one would automatically examine the 'having children at sixteen' option thoroughly, but was that justly when it all started for her? Could this lifestyle be a form of the famous 'karma' myth?
Sometimes - err, more like incredibly frequently - the guilt of wishing she'd made better choices in the past had a way of putting a major damper on her mood. There was the constant wondering of where she would be at currently in life if she hadn't broke free from...well, from...

What was there to break free from in the first place?

This was a question that Zephy had still left unanswered. Being one of those lucky children with no rules really whatsoever, her rebellious streaks of the past could easily fall under confusion. There was no cage, no restrictions of the household, and nothing other than a few sexist remarks from her step-father. Her freedom alone could have been enough to please a whole collection of individuals, but naturally, she took it all for granted in her younger teenage years. No matter how extreme her actions may have seemed, they only grew to be more over the top than before. With all of that said, why would anybody feel the need to preform such disobedient behavior? Whether it be towards her parental guardians or society itself?

Because as pathetic as it was, Zephyr had felt trapped growing up under her step-father's roof. Differing from the rest of the family members wasn't the idealistic way to bond over things, and due to their own narcissistic mindsets, it caused her to recoil back into the comforts of solitude whenever she was stuck hanging around inside the 'Kingsley' household. Money had never been enough to bribe the girl into toleration with the others by any standards, and considering that her mother's husband wasn't capable of comprehending any other approaches, Zephyr's forehead was more or less stamped with the words 'lost cause' before she hit fourteen.

She wasn't fond of that particular experience. Anyone could see that if they wanted to.

Sighing lightly to herself and rubbing her eyes a bit, her pale hand extended to grasp onto the cool glass containing her iced tea nearby. The design she was currently drawing into her sketchbook was yet another abstract art piece, but the structure itself contained various swirls within its core. To most onlookers, it could've easily passed for something too odd to give a second thought about. But in Zephyr's eyes, she was pretty pleased with how it was all coming together marvelously.

your cbox name: zee
age: 3003
experience roleplaying: maybe 5 years, i think
who you play: just this freak of nature
how to contact you: pm
how you found us: advertisement on another site
have you read the rules: crimson




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